Sharing
by tlyman48
Summary: A dinner conversation (of sorts) between Josh and Donna. Takes place Summer 2007, 6 months into the Santos Administration.


Title: Sharing

Author: tlyman48

Summary: A Conversation between Josh and Donna.

A/N: Set in Summer 2007, six months into the Santos Administration

* * *

"You got started without me?" Josh called out. He stowed his briefcase underneath the entryway table, hung his keys on the wall hook, and made his way into the next room.

"Well, I didn't know how late you'd be so I decided to get a head start on the prep work." Donna wiped her hands on a towel. She held both sides of his face and gave his lips a quick peck.

"Hey."

"Hi," Josh replied with a small smile and began washing his hands in the sink, "What can I do?"

"I've chopped the onions already. Sauté?"

"Yeah, I can handle that." Josh headed over to a cutting board on the counter.

"So you're home earlier than I imagined. What happened?" Donna removed her favorite knife from the block and moved to the potatoes.

Josh sighed as he opened a bottle of olive oil. "Bram has a nosy reporter who got his hands on a very rough draft of the education bill. We're nowhere close to halfway finished with the real thing. If this gets out, we'll-"

"-we'll have TV pundits bickering back and forth over things that won't even be in the final draft, yet it'll be all the voters remember come midterms."

"Yeah. Bram and Amy were having panic attacks in my office."

"Got enough oil in that pan?"

"I like to live dangerously."

"Obviously," Donna placed the final few potato slices into the pot of boiling water, "Let me guess. You offered the intrepid reporter the first look when the bill's finished?"

"Nailed it. Ouch!" A drop of hot oil splattered onto Josh's arm. "They really should have been able to handle that one themselves. They could have at least gone to Sam first."

"You didn't give them a hard time, did you?"

"Nah, I was nice. Mostly. I was mostly nice...ish. I held back." Anticipating her need, Josh pulled open the cabinet in front of him and passed Donna the glass container of bay leaves. "I remember how lost we all were the first year of the Bartlet administration. We dropped so many balls, I can't believe Leo didn't fire us all and start over. This senior staff is in much better shape than we were six months in. Amy will find her stride soon, and Bram will learn to keep his cool."

"Should I add rosemary or basil?"

"Rosemary," Josh replied, adding green beans to his sizzling pan. He turned to face Donna. "And how was your day?"

"Pretty good. I saw a good draft of the First Lady's speech for next week; it's getting there. Oh, and we had a photo op with her and Miranda. They were tending to the tomatoes in the White House garden."

"Is she doing another nutrition PSA?"

"No, but we'll be serving some of her vegetables with the salad course at next month's State Dinner. Hey, you might want to turn the heat down a bit there."

"You're a genius, you know that?"

"Because of my culinary skills?" Donna joked. She added a dash of salt to the potatoes.

"That too," Josh opened the the lid to the slow cooker and took in the scent of the chicken. "But seriously, that's a great idea. I love how you're not having her fight the 'housewife-in-chief' image. Way to turn an insult into a badge of honor."

"Mrs. Santos is really doing an amazing job. I can't believe I ever doubted her ability to do this."

"We both did. How much longer on those?"

Donna picked up a wooden spoon and poked at a potato, "Maybe five more minutes? Then a couple more to mash them. Chicken's already done, though."

Josh switched off the burner and removed his pan from the heat. He gazed at his feet for a few moments then began, "So, I read the Post today."

"So did I."

"So," Josh paused, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"Joshua," Donna spoke softly, "Look at me."

He obeyed.

"We knew going into this that people would talk. We discussed this. And what did we decide?"

"Screw 'em."

"Screw 'em all." Donna crossed the kitchen into his arms. "I am done making decisions about us based on what others might or might not think."

Josh placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and held her closer. "It's just...I've been on that stupid list every year for the last decade. It was always a joke. I used to put a copy of the article on my fridge, then send one to my mother. With a note letting her know I'm still in my prime. No big deal."

"But now," he continued, "now, I hate that they included me at all. And I hate everything about that blurb."

Donna stroked the sides of his arms and replied, "They did kind of invite all the single women of DC to try and lure you away."

"Because, and I quote, _'Donna may share his address for now, but she doesn't share his name_.' What am I supposed to do with that? And the implication that this is just some fling is absolutely-"

"Josh, stop!" Donna interrupted, placing a finger against his lips. "There is zero pressure coming from me. Remember that. We are what we are, and there is no rush to be anything else. Look at us. Sharing a home, sharing responsibilities, sharing about our highs and lows."

"Sharing a bed," Josh leered.

"Sharing a bed," Donna added, rolling her eyes. "Eventually, we'll share it all. When _we_ decide to, and not a moment before. And certainly not because The Washington Post decided you were still on the market."

"Yeah," Josh reluctantly released his grip on Donna. "Those potatoes are probably done, right? I'll get the masher."

"Thanks," Donna smiled, taking the utensil from his hands, "Can you set the table for us?"

"You would make the leader of the free world's most trusted adviser and one of DC's twenty most eligible bachelors do household chores?"

"In a word? Yes. In two words? Hell, yes. Don't forget the butter knife."

"Yes, Dear."


End file.
